


Frightful Must It Be

by starduchess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Gen, Horror, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduchess/pseuds/starduchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry couldn’t bring them all back, but he could try with Snape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frightful Must It Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_bitter_word](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_bitter_word/gifts).



> Written for [](http://hp-creatures.livejournal.com/profile)[**hp_creatures**](http://hp-creatures.livejournal.com/) Monster Movie Night based on the movie _Frankenstein_. I tried to use the extra brain from the Dept of Mysteries as stated in the prompt, but it didn’t work in context. Hopefully everything else is to your liking!  
>  **Beta:** [](http://fire-juggler.livejournal.com/profile)[**fire_juggler**](http://fire-juggler.livejournal.com/) Thank you, dear!  
> 

**Disclaimer:** This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers, and Warner Brothers, Inc. _Frankenstein_ is the property of the original authors and film-makers. No money is being made; no copyright or trademark infringement nor offense is intended.

  
  
“Harry, are you sure you want to do this? The man’s dead, and I don’t think he’d appreciate being brought back to life.”

Hermione had met up with Harry on the outskirts of Godric’s Hollow at twilight the day after the final battle.

“I have to, Hermione. It was wrong of me to leave him to die. I didn’t even really try to help.” The guilt weighed heavily on his conscience; she could see it in his eyes.

He fiddled with a small, dirty stone in one hand and levitated Snape’s corpse with the Elder Wand in the other.

“This is not going to alleviate your troubles. It’s madness, Harry. People aren’t meant to come back from the dead.”

“But he deserves to,” he told her.

“Oh, so Fred, Remus, Tonks, and all the others who’ve died don’t?”

“I can’t bring them all back, but I can Snape. Besides, the others died fighting for a cause; Snape was brutally murdered for no good reason. Think of all the times he saved me. It’s time I returned the favor.”

Hermione sighed. She knew Harry wasn’t going to be argued out of this. “Let’s get this over with then.”

They hid in the shadows as they crept through the town, careful of the few Muggle villagers still meandering around. The dilapidated ruins of Harry’s infant home were still as depressing as Hermione remembered from their ill-fated Christmas visit, maybe even more so now that the pristine snow no longer blanketed everything. In its wake, there was muck and grime.

“Are you sure we should try it here? It’s not the most sanitary place.”

“There’s a lot of residual magic here and some poignant memories for both of us. Perhaps if I can tap into that, it’ll be enough to counter his death. Kreacher!”

The crotchety house-elf appeared next to them, still wearing Regulus’ fake locket. “Yous is calling, Half-Blood Master?”

“Yes, I need you to clean up the living room as much as you can. Shove the broken furniture and junk off to one side and see how much of the dirt you can get off the floor and walls. Leave the coffee table where it is.”

“Kreacher grumbles but be doing your bidding.” He turned and went to work.

Harry walked through the rubble. Hermione cast Scourgify on the table before Harry lowered Snape’s body onto it.

Upon entering the living room, Hermione set aside her morals and entered lecture mode. “We’ll need to heal the wounds and block the venom before reanimating him.”

“I’ll apply the Dittany,” Harry offered, “while you deal with the blood. Did you bring the books?”

“Yes, as many as I could find.” She pulled out several volumes of Dark spells taken from the libraries of both Hogwarts and the Department of Mysteries.

“You do so love your reading,” Harry chuckled, giving her a light smile.

“Someone in this outfit has to,” she quipped back.

They worked together until Snape appeared healed and the room felt more presentable than it had in decades.

Hermione picked up the first book within reach, but Harry stopped her.

“Hold on a sec, I want to try something simple first.”

She looked at him skeptically, but nodded for him to go ahead. She and Kreacher stood back from the table, while Harry positioned himself at Snape’s head. He took out his Invisibility Cloak and put it on, then held the Resurrection Stone in his left hand and the Elder Wand in his right.

Listening, she heard him mutter in a low voice, “Death, hear me. I am Master. Bring this man back; give him back his life. As I command you, please. Bring him back.”

Hermione was startled. She had never heard him speak like this and that worried her. The Horcrux hunt had been difficult on all of them, but she didn’t think he had become unstable.

After waiting a few minutes with nothing happening - no magic, no movement - she said, “Harry ...” She paused for a second, waiting for a reaction. When none came, she continued, “I don’t think it’s working. We need to look through the books.” Her hand came up a little toward him, pleading silently for him to come away from whatever he thought he was doing.

“I thought that would work. I thought … never mind.” His hands slumped to his sides and his shoulders drooped. “I suppose you’re right,” he told her.

They sat on the floor and pawed through volumes looking for anything related to necromancy. They passed over the ones telling how to make Inferi; that wasn’t what Harry was after. She cast an indexing spell, hoping to speed up the process, but there turned out to be lots of passages to follow up on.

Kreacher brought them sandwiches when minutes had stretched into hours. The wind had picked up and was bitter cold, even with wind-blocking and warming charms. A storm was brewing.

It must have been close to two in the morning by the time she stumbled on something useful.

“Look here, Harry. I found this under _Mystical Incantations of the Ancient Gods_. It says, ‘One must not be swayed to affect the outcome of death, for that dimension is ruled from the other side, and only the Master hath control of legions. But should ye find him and persuade him to thy plight, the dead shall arise through the power of soil and sky.’ I know that’s not much to go on, and it could be more Inferi references; it’s all so cryptic.” She looked up at Harry and was shocked at the intent resolve in his eyes.

“Is there anything else? Any other spell that mentions the power of soil and sky?” he asked.

She shook her head no.

“Right, then,” Harry said. “We’ll just have to improvise.” He moved back into position at Snape’s head, cloak and stone and wand in hand.

“I don’t think -” she started to protest, but he had already begun.

“I am Master of Death. Hear me, gods, and listen to my plea. I call upon the power of earth and sky to bring back the life of Severus Snape.”

The wind howled through the house. A soft glow emanated from Harry’s wand and strands of magic flowed out and down into the soil beneath their feet. Energy began seeping up and into Snape’s body, bathing it in amber mist as sparks erupted across the sky.

Hermione backed away from the tableau, terror taking over her nerves.

The mist became brighter and seeped into Snape’s skin. With a terrible, final crash, lightening struck the place where Snape lay.

She screamed, throwing her arms over her face and ducking down to the floorboards, absolutely certain they were all going to die.

~@~@~

Several days passed in boredom. Harry spent most of the time working with Snape on his gross and fine motor skills. Hermione helped with his continued healing, language skills and mental acuity, while Kreacher kept house and cooked meals, but there was still a lot of downtime as Snape recovered.

To escape, she would play the violin. It was a talent she’d had from early childhood. She hadn’t practised much during her Hogwarts years, since magic was so vast and interesting - she’d had plenty of other things to study - but she had brought it with them on the Horcrux hunt. She had been rusty in the first few months, but she warmed back up to it, and now the music flowed naturally from her deft hands.

The strands of an old Irish folk song wafted through the cottage as the setting sun bathed everything in golds and oranges. Long shadows stretched out across the rubble. The air was still, listening, waiting.

Hermione felt the scene change as the back of her neck prickled. Ending the melody abruptly, she turned and saw Snape standing in the doorway, his gaze fixed on her.

“Oh, hello, Headmaster. How are you feeling?”

He didn’t respond, but his eyes never left hers.

Hermione was confused. “Are you well? Did you need me for anything? More lessons perhaps?”

He continued just to stare at her.

She became unsettled. “Did you like the music? I can play something else, if that song wasn’t to your taste.” She wasn’t sure what was going on.

Her heartbeat sped up a little as he took a firm step into the room. His eyes were disturbingly dark.

“Headmaster Snape?”

“You left me.” He took another step toward her.

“I’m sorry?” she answered, not knowing what he was talking about.

He took another menacing step forward. “You didn’t even attempt to stop the blood, the venom.”

Oh, that. “I’m sorry, sir. We didn’t know you were on our side at the time. Please understand. We never had a clue until Harry viewed your memories and told the rest of us, a-and Harry came back for your body.” She stuttered in her nervousness.

“Which you were perfectly willing to let rot!” He kept walking forward, slowly backing her up to a broken wall. “Potter feels guilty about leaving me - as I should well hope - but you have not shown any remorse for those events. I want restitution.” With that, he grabbed her throat in a death grip and squeezed, eyes blazing in anger, jaw clenched in determination.

She dropped her violin without a care to fight him, to pull his hand away from her, as the lack of air began to burn in her chest. With a gasp she muttered, “Please …”

“Hermione?” she heard Harry’s voice come around the corner. “My God, Snape. No!”

There was a flash of light, then a hiss of pain from the man. He released her throat, shot a few hexes back at Harry, then ran through the open doorway to the outside.

Harry ran over to her, examining her quickly. His face registered shock and dismay. His breathing was frantic and his movements were shaky. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

“My throat,” she gasped, “but I’ll be okay. Go after him.”

Harry ran outside. She could hear him stomping over the bricks and splashing through puddles, but then she heard a crack of Apparition and knew that Snape was gone.

Harry returned after a search of the grounds; there was no trace of Snape.

“What happened?” he asked her.

She told him what Snape had said and done.

Harry hugged her in the dimming twilight. “I’m sorry he hurt you. I should never have let him out of my sight until I knew he was better. Well, there’s nothing for it now. I did what I could for him. He’s alive and on his own now.”

Hermione wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. If he could terrify her, who else could he turn against? Gathering her things to leave, she realised that Harry hadn’t thought this all the way through. Perhaps the dead should have remained so.

\--


End file.
